


Ruler of Everything

by Meriyanna



Series: Oikawa Tooru and Nakahara Himari [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agoraphobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Romance, Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, Comedy, Dadchi is coming eventually, Fluff and Angst, Hopefully funny fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Iwaizumi Hajime - Freeform, Medication, Multi, Oikawa Tooru is a Dork, Panic Attacks, Pining Kindaichi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Oikawa Tooru, Romance, Sad Iwaizumi Hajime, Seijou volleyball club has no chill, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow Romance, angst angst angst, dorks and nerds, just a bit, mama iwaizumi, maybe a little ooc oikawa, oikawa tooru - Freeform, sassy oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriyanna/pseuds/Meriyanna
Summary: I realized with despair that though I had tried to trick myself, told myself that it was just friendship, I had fallen a little more every day. Each time he had smiled, the kind he saved for those closest to him, he put a chink in my armor. Every laugh we shared weakened my resolve. Any look cast in my direction slowly carved a path to my heart.





	1. Do You Like How I Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
> The Ruler of Everything by Tally Hall and how nearly every Oikawa fic has him being an abuser. I thought it was time to show him a little love. The next 8 chaps are already written, I just want to see if there is interest in this story before I continue.
> 
> ALSO, although I am super smitten with Iwaoi, I would much rather have them be friends. I think the fetishizing of homosexuality is a big issue in anime, especially recently and especially with sports anime. Men should be encouraged to have close friendships with each other without being gay. Same for women. So, no matter how amazing the Iwaoi fics/art/headcannons are, I love the idea of their friendship more.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story will contain mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide. It will also contain mental health issues involving anxiety, depression, PTSD and other mood disorders. This fic is largely based off of my life experiences and I hope to do justice to what I and so many other people have gone through.

The gym was silent for a beat after the small kid from Karasuno slammed the ball right past Oikawa before the opposing team erupted into cheers. I could see the surprise on the captains face; it had been too fast to react to. My hand flew up to cover my smirk and I turned away to hide my obvious satisfaction. _'To think two first years could bring him down a notch'_. I bit my lip and continued pushing the soft, wide dust mop across the edge of the gym floor, sure to gather the dust that accumulated. It was a pretty menial task but it was one I still took pride in.

Despite being decently athletic I'd never really tried my hardest during team sports. If I had passively been doing better than average I made sure to hinder my abilities to prevent undue attention from the coaches. It'd happened during every physical education class. Being slightly shorter than average made me perfect point during basketball and my ability to dribble with little effort always gave me advantage. I quickly noticed the interest of the teacher and began to let the ball fall out of my grasp during key moments. It upset my team and the teachers mouth pressed into a thin line but I wasn't pushed to perform any better. I think she knew what I was doing but my actions told her I likely would never join any sports club.

It was like that for everything but volleyball was the worst. My older brothers had both played volleyball aggressively at Aobajosai and I, as the littlest sibling and only sister, had been eager to play with them. I had never liked the sport itself, at least not in the way they did, but I had played my best in order to keep them playing with me. They had both had a natural knack for the sport, something I did not inherit from our father, but the constant practice had given me time to reach a level I never would have on my own. I excelled in strategy and reading opponents which tended to make up for my lack of talent. When they left for University I had little use for my skills and, despite encouragement from my family, never pursued volleyball as a club activity.

But, somehow, I couldn't stay out of the gym. It was possible that learning everything I could about the sport had marked me permanently because the gym sounded like a place I belonged. Squeaking of rubber-bottomed shoes over the sleek, shiny wooden floor, calls between teammates as they worked in real-time to strategize and beat their opponents, the soft pat of a set, loud smack of a serve or spike, thump of a receive. It felt so good, being there, and it made my brothers seem closer to me in spirit.

I still had no desire to play myself so I asked to be one of the caretakers of the gym. Our school was large and the space accommodated the many members of our acclaimed volleyball team. In order to keep the athletes focused on their practice Coach Irihata had long ago requested the gym be kept clean and cared for to reduce the requirements by his players.

Cut to my current position as broom-pusher and floor polisher, giddy like an idiot because the only person that could possibly ruin volleyball for me had just been beaten. Our players looked at each other with obstinate glares and I felt for all except one. The ball had slowed to a stop serendipitously at my feet and I lifted it with one, small hand and smiled. I hated to admit that it felt good every time I held one and cursed my brothers for brainwashing me.

"Hey." A voice called to me and my nostalgia was cut short. 

I felt the smile slowly turn down and turned left toward the court to see Oikawa Tooru sauntering toward me. His usual smugness had once again fallen over his face after recovering from his initial shock. _'So predictable'_ , I thought, _'his only emotions seem to be arrogance and confidence - a dangerous cocktail of self absorption'_. He stopped just a few feet away and I felt the difference in our hight viscerally; the feeling of being cast in the shadow of a monument. My stomach flipped but my will was immovable. I would not be intimidated.

"Your fans are thrilled at your return." I spoke softly with no inflection, practiced n keeping emotion out of my voice. 

To any regular observer my comment might have seemed like a simple statement but to someone like Oikawa my taunt would have been evident. I held back a smile as his eyes narrowed in challenge. The smile he gave was wide and charming and completely fake.

"Oh dear, that almost sounds like you aren't one." He clutched at his chest and spoke in earnest and injured tone. More acting, more fake.

I leaned the handle of the dust mop onto the wall and grasped the volleyball with both hands. 

"On the contrary," I stepped toward him and pushed the ball into his chest where he grabbed it reflexively, but I didn't let go, "I'm your **biggest** fan." 

The exaggeration and sarcasm could be no clearer and I had the satisfaction of seeing some confusion in his eyes before turning away and continuing the task of swallowing up dust mites with my fluffy broom. I tried to hide just how much my hands were shaking.

* * *

_'Idiot, idiot, idiot'_. I felt a scowl on my face and tried to reposition my expression into an emotionless mask once again. _'Why would I say something like that? The interaction could be so benign. He probably wasn't going to say anything to me, he was just waiting for the ball but I just HAD to open my mouth. What happened to staying under the radar? That's where you live, idiot. UNDER the radar where no one bothers you and your life is free of complications'_. I was furious as I began gathering stray volleyballs into the large cart. The other caretakers and players were taking down the net on the opposite side, leaving me alone to mentally abuse myself.

I picked up the last ball and squeezed it hard between my hands. I had knowingly taunted the most popular athlete in school. The most prideful, vain, self obsessed athlete at that. There was no hope for me now. If at any point he decided to treat me poorly for what I'd said it would quickly trickle down to all of his fans and the juniors who worshipped him. If he took any action after my blatant mocking, and I was sure he would, my carefully secluded life would certainly shatter around me.

With no other thought in my head I ran forward and threw the ball into the air before jumping and striking it with all my might over the net that had been left on this side of the gym. I felt the grim satisfaction of using my whole force for one small moment and suddenly realized I had not been alone. I looked toward my audience in terror. The three boys who made up the rest of the gym cleaning crew looked at me in awe including Yamada Reo, the student in charge, who had been welcoming to the only girl on the crew. He had been sure that I was only there to see Oikawa, as many other girls had before me, but after speaking with me he found me to be level headed and honest about wanting to do simple cleaning work. _'How must I look to him now_?

"Forgive me Captain. Forgive me Yamada-san!" 

It killed me to have to apologize to Oikawa for the disturbance and I could not bring myself to look at him after I stood from my bow. I quickly pushed the ball cart into the hallway and hurried toward the equipment room, thankful to be out of sight. Standing in the darkness I deflated and leaned against the door frame for support. I would have to go back in there and I would have to return the next day, and continue returning until graduation. The commitment I made had been so easy; spending time quietly tidying up after the volleyball team had been the simplest commitment to make and I had made it through more than two years without incident.

"Idiot." I said to myself in the darkness of the room.

"Nakahara?" 

Yamada's voice startled me and I stepped out into the bright light of the hallway. He was holding the ball I had served and smiling reassuringly. 

"Wow! You shouldn't be sweeping, you should be playing!" His praise made me blush and I looked away, glancing to my right nervously. 

He followed my gaze down the hall toward the gym doors. The ball sailed over my head as Yamada threw it in with the rest and I returned my gaze to him. My mouth opened, an apology on my lips, but he beat me to it.

"No need to say it again. Tell me though, is everything alright?"

I paused, of course Yamada would ask that. I had never done anything like that since we had begun caring for the gym together our first year. It was out of character and Yamada, possibly the schoolmate closest to me after Aoi-chan, was bound to come around with questions. 

"Ah, I just learned that Haru will not be coming home for Golden week." The lie was easy, I had indeed been disappointed when he told me he had to stay in Tokyo.

"I see, it's been a while since he's been home, correct?" I nodded in affirmation. "Well then why don't you head out now? We're almost done anyway. Go call Haru and give him a piece of your mind!"

I smiled, unable to prevent myself from letting gout a small giggle at the thought of how flustered Haru would be if I yelled at him. 

"Thank you, I promise tomorrow I will not be so embarrassing." I fought the urge to look away in shame once again and turned to leave.

"Oh, Nakahara?" I turned back halfway to see a small blush cover his cheeks, "No need to be so formal, you know? We've known each other for years!"

I beamed at him, "Okay! See you in homeroom, Yamada-kun!" 

His ears lit up bright red. It was not light me to be so familiar but my mood had been lifted and it felt natural as I'd said it. We really had known each other for a long time.

I turned and walked the last few steps to the gym quickly and rounded the corner without looking to find myself bumping into the chest of Oikawa Tooru. He was solid and hard and my small frame bounced harshly off of him and I stumbled back, just barely keeping my balance. _'I've done something to anger the universe. I've done something horrible and awful because there can't be another explanation for this'_. It seemed forces were working against me, pushing me into embarrassing interactions with the unofficial ruler of our high school.

My deprecating thoughts were abruptly ended when he turned to the side to give me room to pass through the doorway. The heat of a blush lit my face and I looked up at him, appalled to be in his presence again in such a short period of time in such similar circumstances. The surprise at my sudden entrance was still on his face, soon replaced by…what? I felt my eyes widen as I tried to make sense of the obviously apologetic expression. Had he ever looked this way before? His body was still turned to the side and he gestured for me to pass. My face burned with redness I couldn't control and I ducked my head quickly, I'd been staring for far too long, and muttered a 'thank you' as I passed.

My fingers hurriedly loosened my long braid and worked through my hair nervously as I headed toward my bag. What was that look? It had felt genuine which was undeniably the reason I was so unsettled. My head turned back to the door as I reached down to grab my things just in time to see those brown eyes still on me before he and Iwaizumi Hajime exited the gym. I wanted to sink down to the floor right then and wallow in my feelings of dread but there were still too many players and custodians cleaning that I was forced to exit the second gym entrance, thankfully, opposite to where Oikawa had been.

The courtyard was clear of students and I ran to my bike before that could change. I prepared to swing my leg over to ride when I remember what Yamada-kun had recommended I do. _'Yes, If I call Haru I can calm myself down'_. Walking with my bike at my side I pulled out my phone and punched in the numbers from memory. He picked up on the second ring.

* * *

"Yamada." Oikawa called out to the boy as he locked up the equipment room. He ran a hand over his sandy blonde hair as he turned toward the captain.

"Oikawa, was there something left undone?" He questioned.

"No, you all did a perfect job," his usual, easy grin quickly made Yamada feel comfortable, as it did most. "I wanted to know the name of the girl who left early." 

He noted the defensive posture the other student took as soon as she was mentioned. Playing on the emotion he leaned back in a non-threatening stance to put Yamada at ease. Yamada took a moment before he laughed at himself for his sudden suspicion. 

"I thought you'd know, she's been here since first year." He joked at the athlete in front of him, not knowing how easily he had been manipulated.

The irritation he felt did not reach the surface. Instead, Oikawa held his arms out wide and pasted a contrite look on his face. 

"It seems I'm not without my faults after all. Learning her name would be the first step in atoning for my shortcoming." Repeating himself was a bother. He nearly sighed but was distracted by the harrumph from behind him and turned to scowl at Iwaizumi.

"Her name is Nakahara Himari," Yamada began with a presumptive tone, "but if you're thinking of trying to 'woo' her you're out of luck. She made it clear that she wants nothing to do with you."

At that Oikawa could not contain his interest, "I wonder why you sound so sure of that?" His question was honest, without hostility, as the information replayed in his mind.

"Well, we always ask prospective members, especially females, if they're just doing this to get close to the players. Your name in particular," Yamada pointed at Oikawa, "is used when interviewing due to the high number of fans you have." Oikawa had the decency to look abashed, "It's easy to tell by their face once they hear 'Oikawa Tooru' if they're just looking to try to be near you."

The explanation was uttered in a casual tone but it was easy to tell that he was particularly proud of the vetting process. There was silence in response and he continued.

"Nakahara-chan didn't so much as blink and then she said, 'I can assure you, I want nothing to do with him'" he mimicked a female voice and cracked up laughing.

Oikawa's mouth pressed in a thin line and he himself mirrored Yamada, laughing as well. 

"I've never been more humbled!" He declared, this time ignoring the grunt from Iwaizumi, "My thanks, Yamada. See you tomorrow."

Iwaizumi spoke first as they exited the building, "Nakahara. Isn't that the name of some of Aobajosai's best players?"

"Nakahara Haru led the team to nationals the year we joined. The oldest brother, Hinata, did the same for his team three years prior. There were two years that overlapped when both brothers were here. Those two years we beat Shiratorizawa in every match." 

The information bubbled past his lips without much thought. He had been surprised to learn that the girl cleaning the floor of dirt and grime was related to two school legends. The unpracticed but skillful jump serve from this afternoon flashed in his mind again and he decided he was no longer surprised. She had obviously learned that from someone.

"So, she's basically a legacy. How embarrassing that she said openly how she despises you." Iwaizumi said with a face of stony impassivity.

Oikawa jumped away from him, "Iwai-chan," he whined, "how can you be so cruel! She never said 'despise'!" His whines followed his friend until they split ways toward their respective homes.


	2. Another Story to Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This story will contain mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide. It will also contain mental health issues involving anxiety, depression, PTSD and other mood disorders. This fic is largely based off of my life experiences and I hope to do justice to what I and so many other people have gone through.

"Himari, don't forget to leave your bike at home today. Hinata's train gets in a short time before your club activities end so take the bus with him, okay?"

"Yes." I verified for the third time that week that I understood the itinerary.

As always my mother's habit of micromanaging, something she had picked up from work, had found it's way into our lives.

"And have you taken your medicine this morning?" She turned to me now, taking a break from packing her bento.

"Yes. At seven on the minute." I responded lightly, ignoring the thinly veiled concern in her gaze.

She sighed and returned to her task. Wiping a stray bit of breakfast from my mouth I quickly cleaned my mess and smoothed my uniform. The pleats in my patterned, light-brown skirt were crisp; my white, perfectly tailored dress shirt and cream vest were free of stains or wrinkles; my lilac blazer was comfortably fitted and clasped at the waist with bright silver buttons. I checked the red ribbon around my shirt collar to make sure the bow was perfectly tied and then grabbed my school bag and my sports duffle and headed to the bus.

_'Sometimes taking the bus is a nice break'_ , I thought as I pulled the assignments due to day onto my lap, checking them once again for errors. Riding my bike daily had been a self-imposed task due to to both my aversion to running and my desire to remain healthy and fit, _'but occasionally I should indulge myself'_. I stared out the window and enjoyed the sights of the bus route. This too would be refreshing to see after so many days of biking through the same scenery.

In my appreciation of what passed outside I failed to notice the new passengers until I felt the hairs on my neck prickle. Turning, I searched for the eyes I knew were on me and found two pairs. Two players I wasn't too familiar with, but dressed in the signature turquoise of our school, sat not too far away blatantly staring at me. Immediately, I turned back to the window. Those stares had been happening for the near two weeks that had passed since my outburst in the gym.

_'On second thought, the bus seems a bit too crowded. Biking will be much more comfortable'_.

I counted my blessings that it had only been odd looks instead of something else. Ridicule or questions or even requests to join the girls volleyball club would all have been much worse. At least I could deal with the staring internally. If I'd been put into the spotlight I'm sure I would have had…uncomfortable flashbacks.

As it is with all new things my appeal to the two boys faded quickly and they fell into conversation with each other. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and sunk into my seat a little bit. Hopefully the coming holiday week off and the absence of seeing me daily would snuff out any further interest in me and the next shocking thing could draw their attention.

I waited for them to exit the bus first and slowly trailed toward the school behind them while trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Ma-ri!" I winced at the joyful voice that shattered the silence.

She ran from the school and passing the players in front of me and crashed into me with a hug. They stared incredulously at her bountiful energy that knew no bounds, including the early hour in which she was screaming.

"Aoi-chan, you are passionate as always, but do we have to hug every morning?" I spoke at nearly a whisper and glanced toward the boys, glad to see that they'd continued walking.

"What? Are you kidding me? We're best friends, you're supposed to be happy to see me!"

She sounded offended but I knew it didn't go very deep. I mutter a 'yes' in agreeance, biting back a smile, and she seemed satisfied enough to dive right in to the topic of her choosing. I let myself be carried away in conversation. When I was with Aoi I didn't have to try so hard to be happy. Her brightness was infections, not to mention she was the main supplier of information while I responded quietly here and there.

* * *

 

After changing into the white and teal track suit I surveyed the gym. _'Hmmm. The only people staring today are Satoshi-kun and Kenshin-kun. That's progress'_.

Out of the many people currently in the gym they were the only ones whose eyes constantly flicked over to me. It was understandable that they would be some of the last people interested. The two second years wouldn't have known the Nakahara name like the third years or even the younger players in the volleyball club.

Talk of my brother's accomplishments circulated through school after Haru left, mainly consisting of speculations on whether the team would remain competitive in their absence. That was a bad year for me after I'd joined the custodial crew. Whispers, assumptions about why the youngest of the three, supposedly talented, Nakahara siblings was mopping up after players instead of playing herself.

My personal favorite had been that I didn't have any ability and that my application to be manager of the boys club had been rejected, making me so desperate to be involved that I had settled for cleaning the ground they walked on. _'Yeah, that sounds like me'_. I joked with myself, smiling now at the rumors that had made my first year hell. I noticed Hajime looking my direction with a raised eyebrow and hurriedly continued setting up the net.

When all the players had arrived Coach Irihata called them all together to, presumably, talk about their training schedule for the upcoming holiday week. During these routine pre-practice meetings it was typical of the volunteers to clean any areas that would be clear during practice such as bathrooms, hallways, and club rooms before going back to maintain the gym. I shuttered as Yamada looked over the duties list to see what areas we would all be assigned to. I shuddered thinking of having bathroom duties two days in a row but was pleasantly surprised when I'd been named for club duty.

The club room was usually pretty easy work. Aside from hallway duty it was probably the easiest to manage alone. I took an initial look at the room to gauge where to start. Some stray bits of trash would need to be picked up first, then clearing the benches of personal belongings and putting them in the bin at the front for players to collect after practice. After tidying I would look to see if there were any stray items in the unused lockers before wet mopping the floors.

Carrying the trash can I began to gather the garbage from the floor, placing any non-trash items on the benches to put in the lost and found later. _'Is that a…'_ my thoughts trailed off as I bent down to grab the small, purple rectangle. It is. I flipped the lighter over in my hand twice before I realized what I was doing.

"This is not good."

I whispered and clutched the lighter tight in my right hand. My left ghosted over my hip bone on the same side and, shaking, I fell backward onto the bench. My brain began to send signals to my body without my consent and my thumb pressed down on the striker, rolling the metal wheel and sending a spark of electricity to light the gas.

A perfect, orange flame flickered around before I released the wheel. The smell of burned gas filled my senses with dangerous recollection and I lit the disposable lighter once again. The flame had me mesmerized and I had no recollection of time but I must have been missing long enough to be noticeable. Yamada opened the door and I looked toward him, eyes not quite locking on to their target.

The fire began to burn my thumb and I blinked furiously, remembering that the sensation was bad and I looked at the raw, pink mark. _'A burn…'_ my attention was drawn to the mark that had been left by the heat of the fire, ignoring the obviously concerned Yamada still frozen in the doorway.

"Nakahara?" He said, uncertain, successfully drawing my gaze.

I tried to drop the lighter but found it grasped tightly in my hand. My left hip began to ache and I became frightened.

"Please go get Iwaizumi-san."

My words pushed past my throat, suddenly dry and raw as if I had inhaled the fire. His eyebrows came together and I knew it was an absolutely inappropriate request.

"Naka-"

"Please! It has to be him. Make up an excuse if you need to but please bring him here."

The panic I'd begun to feel bubbled to the surface and I began shaking with the fear of a relapse. _'But you've already failed. You already burnt yourself'._ I braced myself on the bench with both hands, fighting against the urge to curl into myself. There was no time for me to register the confusion and hurt on Yamada's face as he turned away. I was too busy keeping my mind from breaking.

* * *

 

Four players practiced receiving in pairs on the far side of the gym. Each varied from setting the ball in a high arc to slamming the ball at a sharp angle in an effort to challenge their partner. Oikawa, even in his deep focus, noticed the lead custodian jogging toward them with concern on his face. _'He's about to interrupt our practice'_ , he concluded and began to work up his best 'responsible-captain' speech in which he would chastise Yamada for distracting them after their embarrassing loss to Karasuno.

He caught the ball instead of passing and waited for the boy to approach him with whatever odd bit of information he'd deemed important enough to disturb practice. To his surprise, and chagrin, Yamada stopped some yards away and instead spoke to Iwaizumi. Oikawa walked forward slightly miffed at being ignored and tried to insert himself into the conversation.

"…Problem with your locker in the club room."

He heard the tail end of Yamada's explanation as he neared. His eyes narrowed, the custodian seemed distressed; sweat began to build on his brow. Oikawa opened his mouth to question the truthfulness of his statement when Iwaizumi suddenly headed toward the club room.

"Huh?" He couldn't help the surprise he felt at his friends retreating figure, "Hey, Iwa-chan, wait to do that until after practice. Oi! Are you listen-"

The words were cut off by a dark glare from Iwaizumi and Oikawa muttered something about the other 'taking himself too seriously'.

"Just keep practicing until I come back." Iwaizumi ordered as he turned away once more.

He too had noticed the stress behind Yamada's thin excuse to get him to the club room. There was definitely something more but the custodian, whose he had barely any interaction with, had come to him directly for some reason.

Curious but too wary of his friends wrath Oikawa called over another teammate to receive with.

* * *

 

The club door opened quickly and, again, my body moved of it's own accord, jumping from the bench and backing into a corner of the room. My shaking hands still clutched the lighter and pressed against my chest as if trying to slow the erratic beating of my heard. It took a moment for my brain to register that there was no danger in the two familiar figures in the doorway.

"Hajikun." I whispered and felt relief flood through me. He turned to Yamada as he took a step into the room.

"Keep this door closed and don't let anyone come in until we leave. Especially that idiot captain."

Hajikun said and entered the room fully, closing the door behind him. His eyes stared directly into mind and I could see the softness just under the surface of his, seemingly permanent, impassive expression.

"Mari."

His voice almost made me burst into tears. Instead, I clutched my chest tighter.

"Hajikun, I'm so sorry, We're not supposed to talk to each other outside group meetings but-" my words were abruptly stopped as he walked toward me slowly.

He grabbed my shoulder with gentle hands and led me to the bench. I sat down and my eyes widened as he crouched in front of me, _'so gentle'_.

"Mari, the group is anonymous for your protection but if you're not safe then what's the point?"

I knew he had seen the lighter despite my hands tightly gripping it. _'That's right, fire isn't safe'_. I worked through the thought in my head. It seemed so obvious, so elementary, that my brain almost didn't recall the most important piece of information regarding my history with fire. _'I used to hurt myself with fire. I shouldn't be near fire'_. My hip ached.

It was like looking at a photo through dirty glass. I would always know what was in the photo but my mind clouded the image. The image here was self harm, the smoky glass was my brain wanting to prevent time from hurting myself while fighting a sick compulsion to do just that. No matter how long it had been since the last relapse, no matter how happy I was, I would always have to fight against the fuzzy part of my brain.

'That sometimes happens,' the therapist had said, 'when you've experienced a trauma'.

"Mari," Hajikun's voice brought me back to the present, "will you please give me the lighter?"

My eyes fell to my hands, white-knuckled, around the purple rectangle. I looked back at him and he nodded in encouragement. My arms stretched toward him, toward his open palm and placed both of my hands in his right. Biting my lip I realized I couldn't let go but before I could voice my shame another large, warm hand gently worked my fingers away from the lighter. When it was free he tucked it away in his clothes and returned his hand to hold my own.

"You did the right thing asking Yamada to get me." I bobbed my head to show I was listening, "Anonymity is important for you and I but staying alive and healthy overrides that every time. You always call me if you need me."

He wasn't looking for verification, he wasn't ordering, he was pleading and I knew why.

"Okay," I whispered and he suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace, and I knew why.

I held him with all my strength, hoping to express my gratitude in that small gesture.

"It was never your fault."

I hadn't intended to say it to him. It wasn't a subject he discussed outside our group. He stilled for a moment and the next I felt his fingers tighten on my track jacket. I smiled slightly, sadly, into his shoulder. _'I can be there for him too'_. When we parted I noticed his eyes were glassy but said nothing. His face and voice were stern and steady as ever when he spoke.

"You should leave for the day."

My head whipped back and forth.

"I can't. I shouldn't be by myself. Besides, Hinata's train won't arrive for a while and we're riding the bus home together."

His lips pressed into a thin line and I could tell he wanted to argue. Sighing he pulled me with him as he stood and gave my hands a firm squeeze before releasing.

"Fine, but tell Hinata what happened when you meet him. You're not alone."

His eyes pierced right through me and I knew I'd have to acquiesce. I gave him a small but genuine smile and he seemed to take that as an acceptable response and led me to the door. When he pushed it open we could see Yamada standing not too far away with concern painted across his face. Seeing my lips turned up in a smile he visibly relaxed although his concern was quickly replaced by jealousy. _'Oh, Yamada. You should work on keeping your emotions off your face'_. Hajikun began walking away and I couldn't help but call out to him.

"Thank you for your help, Iwaizumi-san."

I saw his mouth twitch, holding in a smile, but he said nothing and continued back to the gym. Turning to Yamada now I saw my predicament clearly. He was concerned, confused, hurt, and jealous and my options were limited as to what explanation I could give. I wasn't ready to add him to the small circle of people who knew my past but I had to mollify him. I could only hope that I was not giving him any false hope as I did so.

"Yamada-kun, thank you and I'm sorry."

His eyebrows raised, taken aback. He obviously hadn't been expecting this.

"The lighter I found belonged to Iwaizumi-san. He has a…secret vice. I wanted to make sure he would come to dispose of the lighter but I couldn't very well bring it to him. I am sorry for not telling you the situation, but as you can see it's delicate. So, thank you for getting him for me. And," I smiled apologetically, "I thank you for keeping this situation a secret. If anyone, even the Captain, found out Iwaizumi-san would be in great trouble."

I put the honest desperation I felt in the plea, shameful that I was appealing to his feelings for me in order to secure secrecy. Yamada ran a nervous hand over his hair and I saw the light covering of a blush on his cheeks and felt the guild settle deep in my gut.

"O-of course Nakahara-chan. I won't tell anyone."

The guilt exploded through me. It was nauseating and deserved. I smiled brightly however, bowing slightly in gratitude.

"Thank you! I'll get back to work right away!"


	3. Juno Was Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa's mouth embarrasses him, Iwaizumi abuses Oikawa, and Himari comes out of her shell with the help of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact that I've probably mentioned before: this was originally posted on fanfiction.net and is up to chapter 18 on that site. I'm posting corrections and story changes on AO3, sort of like a 'final draft' on here.

A bright sign stood next to the club room door alerting people of the wet floor inside. I brought the cleaning items back to the utility closet and headed to the gym. My left hand skimmed over my hip bone, my mind still foggy from the encounter with the lighter. I was lucky to have Hajikun here. It's not often that, on the brink of relapse, someone you know is there to help. My luck for the day had been overflowing.

Self harm, for me, was humiliating and dark and not something I wanted my loved ones to know of. It was opportunistic; when alone emotionally and physically the desire struck. Rarely did I ever find myself in a public place with an urge strong enough to make me run somewhere secluded to satisfy it. When I did it was likely that my weakness would bring on newer, more intense urges when I was finally alone. Haru had been the first one to discover me, sobbing silently with a metal clothes hanger, red from heat, pressed against my skin.

I was still reliving the memory when I stepped into the gym to see a loud cluster of team members near the gym door. Oikawa was standing faster out with a childish pout and Hajikun stood next to him, reveling in his friends dismay. Curious, my painful memories washed away and I approached the group.

"Can you show us how to do that amazing back attack?" 

My heart began to beat fast and I felt a wild smile on my lips as I pushed through the crowd, eager to reach the center where I was sure I would find-

"Hinata!" the exclamation came unbidden from my lips as I broke through the last few people. Dressed casually in workout gear with a large duffle on the floor beside him my brother grinned widely at my sudden appearance.

"I'd be happy to try but you might as well learn from the creator herself!" He pulled me into a one-armed hug and kissed the top of my head. "Hey little sis."

My mouth was open in shock as the room digested all that he said. Eyes glanced back and forth between us, noting the similarities: thick, unruly black hair and dark green eyes. My blood froze in my veins under the scrutiny yet somehow my face burned red with embarrassment. 

"That's not quite accurate." My words held little conviction and I bit my lip as Oikawa and Hajikun stepped into the circle now.

"She's humble, but trust me when I say she's got more talent than I do." 

Some mouths dropped at this, including mine, again, as I gaped up at him. He seemed to realize that his affectionate gloating brought me attention that I had actively tried to avoid. His arm rested on my shoulder and he gave me a light squeeze before glancing down at me, an apology written in his eyes. My mouth snapped shut. ' _ He'll probably actually apologize later for dragging me into the spotlight.' _

It was true that I'd taught him the technique he used for his back attack though I had still been in elementary school. At the time I felt like the age difference between myself and Hinata had multiplied when he entered high school and I poured over any and all information on volleyball I could get my hands on. Anything to remain relevant in his ever changing life. I'd discovered the pipe play and thought that with Hinata's skill and strength, as long as the setter was competent, he would be able to jump for a ball at the very last moment as the it came down from its arc. The benefit, I had hypothesized, would be increased speed and force making the possibility of blocking it very little no matter how prepared the blocker was.

Shy, and afraid of making a fool of myself I approached Haru fist. As a setter he would know whether the possibility could be humored let alone performed. We practiced it a few times to show Hinata who learned best by watching. I could still remember the euphoria I felt when I saw the sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle put there by me. In his first year of high school he hadn't been able to perform it more than a handful of times when the setter got lucky so he had to practice at home with Haru and myself. We remained inseparable until Haru, too, went to high school.

I forced myself into the present, fleeing the dark road those memories would lead me down, seeing the crowd part suddenly to make way for Coach Irihata. 

"Nakahara Hinata." He attempted, and failed, to imbue the short phrase with his usual disgruntled authority, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch upward in a whisper of a smile.

"Hey, Coach. Still as wound up as ever I see." Hinata had the dig ready just as he had when he'd been in the club. Coach's eyes narrowed in response.

"You're talking pretty confidently now that you're out of my gym." 

I could hear the friendly tension build as one of the best players to pass through the school and his former coach couldn't help but goad each other.

"It's a good thing I'm out too, you might be losing touch in your old age." 

Heads turned back and forth between the two, riveted by a side of their coach they hadn't seen.

"Big talk for a hot-shot college boy, but can you back it up?" 

He unknowingly puffed out his chest. He'd never say it out loud but he was sure he had a player on his current team that could give Hinata a run for his money. I knew that look. It was the look he had when he was sure we were going to win a match.

"Are you suggesting I've lost my touch?" Hinata's eyes sparkled and he stepped forward, releasing me as he did. His toothy smile was downright scary.

"Play a match with this group and you'll see that you have." 

Eyes unbelievably wide the entire team looked at Irihata. It seemed once he had graduated and become his own man a sense of familiarity had grown between my brother and his former coach. Instead of teacher and student they interacted like old friends. My heart swelled with pride seeing a man my brother looked up to showing him such respect.

"Sure, I'll teach them a thing or two." Hinata said, always ready to play a round. Whoops and cheers followed and suddenly the whole team began to discuss teams and strategies when they were interrupted.

"I'll play only if she does." 

Shock wracked through my body when I processed who the voice belonged to. Oikawa was pointing directly at me, head tilted to the side with anticipation in the smirk that stretched across his face. A moment passed and I realized what was happening. ' _ This is it. This is how he's getting back at me for the other day _ .' Many emotions pin-balled in my brain: excitement, fear, recklessness, uncertainty,  _ excitement _ . It was confusing to feel so thrilled at the prospect of playing. I hadn't played, hadn't wanted to play since 'That Day' for many reasons, the most glaring being that volleyball could incite flashbacks of the incident.

Knowing this, Hajikun and Hinata looked at me, worried, before Hajikun slammed his hand into the back of Oikawa's head. 

"Shittykawa, you idiot!"

"Okay."

The two responses to the team captain had been muddled and overlapped as we spoke at the same time. Still silent, all heads turned my direction once again. Hand still in the air Hajikun stared at me incredulously. I felt Hinata's hand on my shoulder but I was looking at Oikawa. He was holding the back of his head, mouth open to complain to his friend but his eyes were locked on to me.

"Okay." I said feeling a rush of adrenaline as I said it. "I'll play." Turning immediately to the club rooms to change I left him to pick his jaw up off of the floor.

* * *

 

After she left Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa once more. 

"Shitty-trashy-crappykawa." He muttered, nearly drowned out by the sudden roar of conversation between the other players.

"O-ow, Iwa-chan! What's with you?" Ducking away from another hit he jumped back, grumbling incoherently and holding his injured head.

"Why would you ask her to play? What's your angle here?" 

It didn't sound like Iwaizumi wanted to understand at all why Oikawa had issued the stipulation. His voice made it clear that there was some unseen boundary that had been crossed. The pain dissipated at once and OIkawa frowned, ' _ what's gotten into Iwa-chan?' _

"It's not like I thought she'd agree!" He defended, "I just wanted to mess with her a little. You know, because of that awes- _ sloppy _ jump serve the other day." 

It was the truth although he wouldn't admit that he was more than a little intrigued. Most of the time only players who intended to play professionally, and who had the skill, practiced the jump serve. Why, then, had this innocuous, invisible girl been able to perform one?

"I know it doesn't happen often with you, but I really wish you'd have thought about someone other than yourself this time." Iwaizumi pressed a finger into his chest hard and glared into his eyes. At that moment OIkawa knew something much deeper had been going on, something that not even his best friend had told him. His act dropped.

"Iwa, is there something I should know?" 

Honest concern shown in his brown eyes and Iwaizumi felt badly for being so aggressive. It wasn't as if Oikawa could know everything. Not outside the court, at least.

"Just that you're an idiot." He said in his usual stern tone and turned away from his friend to collect himself. 

It wasn't his story to tell, no matter how close to Himari he was, but now that Oikawa knew something was being kept from him it was hard not to feel guilty for keeping it to himself. He was relieved when Oikawa regressed back to whining and pleading for information. He could more easily ignore him when he was being a petulant child.

Looking at the two boys Hinata stood next to Coach Irihata, his mouth pressed in a thin line. It seemed that Iwaizumi and his sister had become better friends than he had realized in his absence. He felt guilty that she had to rely on someone other than family but they had all been assured first by her, then by her therapist, that grieving and watching her constantly would help no one. They all had to continue living. The pain still ached in his chest, the knowledge that all his posturing about being the oldest brother, the protector, hadn't amounted to anything when she actually needed him.

"I'm sorry about that one," Irihata spoke. He was one of the only people outside of the family that had any idea of what had happened in her past. "He's pretty rambunctious, or insolent, if you'd rather, but he's a hell of a player."

Hinata nodded.

"It's alright. I'm grateful in a way. There are bound to be many moments in her life where she'll be challenged like this. I won't be there every time either." 

The old coach placed a warm, weathered hand on his shoulder.

"I can see why he wanted to challenge her though. She's one of the three people in this gym that can do a power jump serve." The sly smile on the coach's face told Hinata that he wanted to shock his former player. He was exceedingly successful.

Turning fully to Irihata, eyes wide, he nearly shouted, "She served? In front of people?" 

Pride in his younger sister blossomed in him and his eyes began to sting. She had barely consented to touching a volleyball after 'That Day', not even to practice with her brothers. It had been understandable, of course, but it had been an even bigger blow to him. He cherished the time practicing with his sister and losing it had been a devastating reminder of her trauma. Serving in front of people, agreeing to play today, Hinata found himself hoping they were steps forward for her.  A chuckle escaped Irihata despite the grave undertone of their conversation. 

"She did. Seemed embarrassed by it but she's come back every day since then." 

The meaning of his words soothed Hinata. ' _ She's come back every day _ .' She served and still came back, something that, years ago, would have been impossible. It meant she was strong and getting stronger.  Relief was apparent in his sigh. 

"I told you to shut up! Damn, you don't know when to quit!" 

He looked over to Iwaizumi yelling at Oikawa and laughed. The prospect of playing volleyball with his little sister again didn't seem to be the shattering scenario he thought it would be.

* * *

I was fidgeting as I exited the club room, checking to make sure my shorts fully covered the shame on my hip. The physical education uniform was standard but my long legs made them seem too short for comfort. I got away with wearing the track pants in PE because I hadn't been trying but this situation was different. I needed to move unrestricted, unfettered by fabric in order to play properly. There was no way I was going onto the court with Hinata and, if I had to admit it, with Oikawa as well, and not give it everything I had.

I breathed in deep and let it out in a hiss. I was being reckless. That was exactly the term my therapist had used. ' _Trauma survivors tend to be reckless. They put themselves in dangerous positions that others would not_ '. He had explained that 'danger' for me for me involved more things than someone without my history. For me, danger could be playing volleyball when the last time I attempted to nearly landed me in psych care for a weekend. Even knowing that could not ebb the excitement I was feeling.

"Nakahara-chan!" Yamada called out to me before I could open the gym doors. I thought he looked to be in a pretty good mood though I had no idea why. "So, you're actually playing? I knew it. I was right when I said you should be playing instead of cleaning." ' _ Oh,'  _ I thought, ' _ he's pretty excited for me _ .'

"Yeah, well my brother is here and I was invited so..." 

I trailed off, uncertain of why I was trying to explain what had happened when I was still processing it myself.  He brushed off my awkwardness easily. 

"Well, we'll all be cheering you on. You're like our representative." 

He was talking about the custodians. The phrase bothered me, like the only one who could interact with the volleyball club was me just because I knew how to play. It seemed sad that there was an invisible wall always separating the athletes from everyone else. They weren't unattainable but everyone acted like it.

"I'll try to give us gym cleaners a good name." I said while wondering if I had felt the invisible wall between my brothers and myself while growing up. 

We high-fived and Yamada ran up to the upper deck to watch.

Walking back into the gym I saw the team arguing over who would play with Hinata and smiled.  _ Popular as ever _ . When I joined them Hinata, already changed, eyed me fretfully and I made a show of rolling my eyes. He didn't need to worry about me anymore. 

"Hinata and I should be on separate teams." I spoke into the fray of voices.

I was already tired of the way everyone stopped functioning when I said anything. 

"But he said he needed you to set for him to show us the back attack." Kindaichi all but whined and I pursed my lips.

"Then you can watch me do it from the other side of the court." 

I tried to sound composed and confident but I was sure the irritation I was feeling seeped out. I heard a chuckle followed by a disbelieving 'oh really' and glanced to see the culprit, Oikawa, looking overly arrogant. Turning toward Hinata and Coach Irihata I spoke with more control. 

"Give me Oikawa and I'll show you all the Nakahara Pipe." My eyes met Oikawa's with mirth, noting his dumbfounded expression. ' _ That shut him up _ .'

"Very well. Nakahara Hinata, Yahaba, Kindaichi, Motomu, Kunimi, Hanamaki on this side. Nakahara Himari, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Kyotani, Heisuke on the other. Watari will be libero for both. We'll play three sets to 15 to keep it short and the losers clean the gym." 

I felt my mouth turn down and quickly reset it. I was irritated that Coach put Iwaizumi on the same team as Oikawa. They'd been playing together for years and had flawless teamwork and putting them together in this scrimmage meant that he thought I'd hinder the team's performance. Fire burned in my belly.  Hinata winked at me as my team walked to the other side of the net. Oikawa bounded up next to me. 

"So, you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" 

The way he said it sounded as if he'd said the phrase a hundred times. It held no innuendo or even any playfulness. If anything it sounded obligatory like he was expected to say it so he did. The fire in me crackled. Was there even a real person underneath that facade? Was there no person he deemed worthy enough to show his true self?  I stopped and grabbed his arm and was rewarded with another stupid look of surprise. He made me want to put him in his place like Karasuno had done but my weapons were few. Relying on the one thing that was sure to shock I stepped closer, our chests nearly touching, and looked up at him. 

"What do you want me to do?" I asked feeling ridiculous as I'd said it. 

Nowhere in the world would anyone describe me as 'seductive' and there I was, trying my best to frazzle a well known play-boy with my sorry excuse for femininity. It seemed to be enough, however whether it was my attempt at being provocative or the shock of someone like me saying that was undetermined. His eyes widened in what I hoped was astonishment and he remained mute.

"Hmm, silence. I guess that means you don't want me to do anything with you. Too bad, alright, good game everyone!" My voice grew louder and I turned away to address my team and they responded in kind. I stood in the middle next to the net and Hajikun raised an eyebrow at me.

"What did you say to him?" He spoke low to avoid being overheard by Oikawa who stood at the far left of the net, silent.

"Just wishing him good luck." 

I forced a smile and tried not to shake my head. I needed a word more severe than reckless to describe myself. ' _ Audacious might work _ .' Why did I continue to feel the need to antagonize Oikawa? I had never had the urge to speak with him before the other day. I was content with watching him play volleyball from a distance. He felt real when he played. It was possible that I bristled against any interaction with him because it ruined the magic of watching him play. _  'I don't like that, it makes me sound like a lovesick fangirl _ .' I snuck a peek at the subject of my thoughts.

Fan girl might not have been too far off, but not in the same vein as his other admirers. I hadn't flocked to his looks or his charm, I hadn't even noticed his existence until I began cleaning the gym. I watched his jump serve and had been immediately struck with nostalgia. It was the first time I enjoyed watching someone other than my brothers. He was brilliant. Maybe no one would call him a genius or prodigy because his latent potential wasn't as high as others' but when it came to understanding the heart of the game he was unmatched. Seeing him work through plays as they happened fascinated me and I found myself appreciating his abilities, watching him when I could. ' _ That's good, going from fangirl to stalker _ .'

I smacked my face with both hands to bring me to the present ignoring the looks directed my way. We were receiving first and I needed to be ready, fully realizing just how easy it would be for me to make a fool of myself. I hadn't played since my third year of middle school, there was no way I would perform like I had let alone be at the level of the boys around me. I looked over to Matsukawa who was waiting patiently on the sidelines as Watari took his position at back center to receive. ' _ He should have been up front,' _ my brain accused me as it shied away from the nervousness that was slowly building.

He caught me staring and looked back, considering something. He held his hands out in front of him and curled them into fists parallel to the ground and started moving his feet in an odd way; almost like pedaling. I blinked a few times before my brain recognized the movement. Tilting my head to the side in question prompted him to stop and held his hands out as if to say 'I tried'. Suddenly the meaning hit me. He was acting out a phrase from English class: 'Like riding a bike'. The meaning was that once you learned something you didn't forget it. I felt my features relax and nodded at him before taking a deep breath feeling taller than my 172 cm. He looked mildly pleased and his face turned back to its passive state looking remarkably similar to Hajikun's. I faced the net with new confidence and readied myself for the serve. Irihata blew the whistle and time slowed down as we started.

Hanamaki served between Kyotani and Watari and the libero received it easily angling it directly toward Oikawa who had switched places with me right after the serve. From just outside the left boundary line where the front and back courts met I watched our setter for a clue as to where he wanted to throw it. He looked almost as if he wasn't watching the opposing team, a master at keeping his play a secret, but I saw the most minuscule of glances toward the right side and new he would throw to Hajikun. I ran anyway at a sharp 45 degree angle toward his position in the middle and jumped high as if preparing to spike.

Two blockers came to me leaving Hajikun with one and I swiped hard at air, delighting in the shock on Hinata and Kindaichi's faces. The ball hit inside the opposing court and I heard heard Yahaba, who had missed the block, let out a sound of irritation.  Hinata smiled so wide his face was in danger of splitting. 

"I thought for sure it was coming to you with how hard you were staring at Oikawa. It looked like you knew exactly what he was going to do." 

' _ Leave it to an older brother to voice your embarrassing secrets _ .'

My cheeks heated up and I tried not to look at Oikawa but failed. The way he looked at me now was completely different than before. It was his game face, the once he reserved for his teammates, free from his usual ministrations that kept his facade in place. 

"I did know." I said bravely.

Rotating now, Hajikun moved to serve and Watari ran to the other side to take the place of Motomu. Scooting back to the 3 meter line I leaned forward to decrease the chance of being hit by the serve. It was over the net quickly and my eyes raked over the players, watching their faces and following the ball. Despite my brothers reputation Yahaba, who was bound to want to succeed against Oikawa, would set the ball who he was comfortable with first. Both Hinata and Kindaichi ran to the net and my feet moved without thought, my body instinctively functioning as my brained continued to process information. 

At the net a warm body arrived next to mine and Oikawa whispered, "Wait."

"Yeah," I whispered back, already aware that Yahaba liked to throw in a slow set to mess up the tempo of the blockers. 

My heart beat once and I saw the ball move toward it's target. Oikawa and I crouched in time with each other and jumped on an unspoken cue.  Kindaichi spiked it hard and I felt the ball slap against the inside of my left hand and begin to escape through the gap in my arms. 

"Shit. One touch!" I screamed before my feet hit the ground. 

Turning rapidly and running to the far right I saw the ball had been received, just barely, by Matsukawa. He managed to send it pretty steadily toward Oikawa who had to adjust only slightly.

_ 'Where is it going this time? _  ' I watched him again and clenched my teeth together. 'S _ hit, to me!' _ I ran hard toward the net almost directly on the sideline when I saw the toss, it was quick but I had guessed the tempo right. Jumping fast I saw the open space in front of me and spiked the ball with all my might down the sideline, relishing the sting on my palm.

I looked down at the pink skin as I fell, faintly hearing the the ball smack against the wood floor. An odd feeling coursed through me and I wondered if I had ever felt this good when I played. Maybe it was living in the shadow of my talented siblings that had caused me to be so dispassionate about it before. I practiced only to further their skills but now I today was just for the pure fun of it. I looked up toward Oikawa, still ecstatic about the spike, and mustered all of my gratitude into the smile I gave him. 

"Thank you." I said, breathless. His features twisted suddenly, eyebrows knitting together and a slow frown forming. I nearly gasped and turned away quickly. ' _ He looks so angry...' _


End file.
